iPoem · 5587.572.273.371 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 5587.572.273.371 (no. 802,515) was generated on October 28, 2026 at 2:53 am
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